He glanced toward the cars waiting to follow the hearse.

“After the burial, Crystal.”

I looked down at the envelope.

I wanted to rip it open on the church steps.

I wanted the truth more desperately than I wanted air.

But my father’s casket was already being carried toward the hearse, and people had begun turning to watch me.

I slipped the envelope into my coat pocket.

It felt impossibly heavy.

Hunter held out his hand.

“Come on.”

I almost told him I did not need his help.

Then the church bells began ringing.

My knees weakened, and I caught his hand before I could stop myself.

He showed no surprise.

He simply tightened his fingers around mine and walked beside me.

At the graveside, every word spoken about my father’s kindness made my chest ache.

When the final prayer ended, Hunter looked down at our joined hands.

“Do you want me to drive?”

I nodded.

—

Once we were outside the cemetery, Hunter held out his hand.

I gave him the car keys but kept the envelope pressed beneath my palm.

“You wait outside at Dad’s house.”

“I will.”

My father’s home still smelled faintly of cinnamon candy.

His jacket hung where he had left it.

His reading glasses remained on the table.

Hunter stopped in the hallway.

“Do you want me in the kitchen?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

I looked toward the porch, then back at him.

“No, just stay here. Please, Hunter.”

“All right.”

He stepped outside and left the door slightly open.

I walked into the kitchen.

Abigail had sat at that table coloring on the morning she disappeared.

A purple creature with six legs still hung from the refrigerator beneath a faded magnet.

“It’s a horse,” she’d insisted.

Dad had laughed.

“Then it’s the finest horse I’ve ever seen.”

I had once loved that memory.

Now I pulled out the chair where Dad used to peel apples for Abigail because she hated the skin.

The envelope crackled between my fingers.

Hunter called through the doorway.

“Crystal, do you want me to open it with you?”

“No.”

My response came out sharper than I intended.

I softened my voice.

“Not yet.”

“I’m right here.”

I tore open the envelope.

Three pages slid onto the table.

The first sentence stopped me cold.

“Crystal, I lied about where Abigail went.”

My chair scraped backward.

“Dad, what did you do?”

Hunter pushed the door open wider.

“What does it say?”

I raised one hand.

“Give me a minute.”

“Crystal, she’s mine too.”

“I know, Hunter. Give me a minute. Promise.”

I forced myself to continue reading.

Dad wrote that the fence bordering the backyard had been damaged for several weeks.

Beyond it was an overgrown trail leading toward a drainage channel.

A nearby property owner had paid him to repair another safety barrier near the channel’s steepest section.

Dad had purchased the materials and accepted part of the payment.

But he kept postponing the work.

“He was supposed to fix it,” I said.

Hunter stepped one foot inside.

“Fix what?”

“The barrier.”

I kept reading.